


Apartment 4C

by aldente



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-09-30 04:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldente/pseuds/aldente
Summary: Sometimes all it takes is meeting your apartment neighbor in a laundromat at midnight.***This story is completed up to Chapter 2. If you keep reading, you will be left on a cliffhanger. I have warned you. I will update this story, but it will be VERY RARE. So do what you will with that information. Thanks for reading!





	1. Laundry Detergent and Tequila

Carrying an all too light laundry basket into the laundry room of her apartment complex, Clarke realized how odd she must have looked to an onlookers eye. Her stark blonde hair was matted down with sweat and sidelong tears which did not accompany the sweater dress she decided to throw on. What little mascara she put on the night before was now smeared under her eyes which made her wonder if she might be related to a raccoon. As soon as the smell of laundry detergent and  _tequila?_  hit her, she snapped out of her self-scrutiny and made her way to the closest washer and dryer. 

She quickly dumped the contents of her basket into the machine and popped a Tide Pod in just as she shut the door to the front-loading washer. Mechanically, she inserted her quarters into their necessary spots and quickly contemplated if it would be cheaper to buy a washer and dryer in the long run. The overwhelming answer to her question was a resounding  _no_ . She wasn’t ready to make her modest apartment a permanent home for her,  _not when there were still so many things left undecided_. 

After a long sigh escaped Clarke’s mouth, she grabbed her laundry basket and turned on the heels of her sneakers to head for the door, but jumped back in surprise when she saw a man standing in front of her.

As she scrambled backwards, the space between the two quickly increased from 8 inches to 8 feet. In her haste, Clarke dropped her basket and went to reach for when she was stopped by the open door of one of the laundry machines. As Clarke started to fall backward, she ultimately decided that this was definitely not how she wanted her long day to end, but was pleasantly surprised when a pair of strong, muscular arms caught her halfway through her descend.

Clarke quickly opened her eyes that she did not realize were closed and looked up to the intriguing man that was staring right back at her. His dark complexion complemented his even darker brown hair that curled at the ends perfectly. The man’s chocolate brown eyes were looking down at her with more emotion than she thought could ever exist, piercing yet calm and soft. The freckles that dotted his cheekbones were enough to make Clarke blush, until she noticed the burning stench of alcohol radiating off of his body. She took a deep breath and noticed the air smelled slightly of tequila. At least, Clarke’s senses were still working properly. 

She tried to squirm out of his hold on her, but all of her attempts were useless. Clarke opened her mouth to begin chastising the man for holding her so long, but couldn’t get a sound out as the man began to speak instead of her.

“Hey, Princess,” he drawled.

His voice was smoky and smooth, and laced with a significant amount of alcohol.

As she was about to give up, Clarke finally escaped the man’s grasp and briskly took a few large steps to distance herself from the person that was holding her just a moment earlier. 

“Princess?” Clarke questioned. “You are definitely not sober.”

“You can tell?” the man looked utterly appalled. 

“I guess I’m just perceptive,” Clarke shrugged and the man stumbled, as if his legs were playing a game of Tug-of-War. She quickly ran over to the man, as he struggled to keep himself up. Luckily, he threw his hands out in front of him which caught onto one of the dryers. Clarke hauled him up, but he stepped backward refusing her help.

“You saved me, don’t I get to save you?” Clarke said expectantly.

“Of course not. You were a damsel in distress, you needed saving. Not me,” the man shot back.

“Alright,” Clarke said as the man finally gave into her and accepted her help. “Before you say anything else stupid and ruin your reputation with me even more than you already have, start talking about something else.” 

Clarke had successfully hoisted the man up and set him down in a chair across from the machine her clothes were currently being washed in.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he said resentfully as he pouted and crossed his arms.

“I actually don’t know if that’s the alcohol talking or not,” Clarke said matter-of-factly. “What’s your name anyway?”

The man’s face suddenly lit up and he sat up just a bit straighter. As he extended his arm, the man finally introduced himself.

“Bellamy Blake, PhD in history from the American University in DC,” he said in a rehearsed voice.

Clarke extended her arm and shook Bellamy’s hand which was oddly calloused for a history major.

“Clarke Griffin, MD PhD.”

“You know, I prefer Princess,” Bellamy said while retracting his hand and looking utterly defeated once more.

“And you know I’m not letting you go home in the shape you’re in,” Clarke shot-back.

“Are you trying to take advantage of me, Princess?” Bellamy said with a smirk.

“In your dreams, Blake.”

The two kept a steady pace of making rhetorical remarks and arguing about everything. As soon as they finished fighting over one thing, Bellamy found another topic to question Clarke about. She answered as honestly as possible which usually caused a screaming battle between her and the freckled man. Clarke was fairly certain Bellamy would not be able to recall any of this information the following morning, so she allowed herself to be as ruthless and stubborn as she wanted.

After a bit more squabbling between the two, a cycle of laundry and a travel size bottle of bourbon, Clarke managed to get Bellamy into the elevator with her and her laundry basket. 

As the elevator climbed it’s way to the 4th floor of the apartment building, Clarke quickly glanced over to Bellamy and smiled to herself. Though Clarke would never admit that she had fun tonight, Bellamy had definitely made her night better. 

Once the elevator reached Clarke’s floor, she was only a few steps from her apartment.  _Apartment 4C_  consisted of a few well-organized rooms that could somehow always lift Clarke’s spirits, but it was far away from being the home she truly wanted. 

As soon as Clarke was inside, she instinctively turned toward her kitchen to fetch Bellamy a bottle of cold water.

“You can take off your shoes and leave them by - ” was as far as Clarke made it before she turned around to face her living room and noticed Bellamy fast asleep on her navy blue couch.

Clarke grabbed two pills of aspirin and set them down alongside the bottle of water on the coffee table next to the couch where Bellamy lay sprawled, covering as much of the couch as possible.

Clarke began to walk away, but snuck one more glance at Bellamy before making her way to her bedroom. The rising and falling of his chest made her content for some reason and she figured that the both of them have probably had a long day. It takes a bad situation for someone to get that drunk and an equally bad one to drive someone to do laundry in the middle of the night with mascara running down their cheeks.

As Clarke finally looked away and resumed walking toward her bedroom, she decided that Bellamy Blake would be  _a problem for another day_.


	2. Aspirin and Easels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy Blake had woken up in some weird places before. A random apartment was definitely not one of them. But a well-decorated one is.

Bellamy awoke to the pounding of an all too familiar headache that normally accompanies a night of heavy drinking.

Once his eyes fluttered open, they fixated on the strange ceiling above him and then to the unfamiliar wall on his side.

Bellamy shot up, quickly wishing that he never did once his head began to beat even harder. Imagining a tiny man hitting his skull with a comically large hammer, he laughed to himself and sat up a bit more carefully.

He quickly scanned his surroundings and tried to put together the events of the previous night. He briefly remembered _a lot_ of tequila, a _cute_ blonde girl and _a laundromat?_ as well as a short, but enjoyable elevator ride, most likely up to the floor he was on now.

Though Bellamy knew he should have just grabbed his things and hauled himself out of there, something told him to stay. At first he figured it was to find out answers about the previous night, but he soon realized that he _wanted_ to stay. The apartment reminded him of something, or maybe even someone he used to know. _From where?_ he had no idea.

Cautiously aware of every sound he made, Bellamy slowly rose to his feet steadying himself against the navy blue couch he slept on the night before. As he made his way to the hallway adjacent to the kitchen, he understood why he wanted to stay. This apartment was unlike any he had ever seen! It was incredibly well decorated and tasteful, with beautiful paintings lining the walls and a blue, yellow and white theme that seemed to continue throughout the space.

Turning around and looking at the open floor plan, Bellamy noticed a bottle of water and a few pills of aspirin on the coffee table in the living room. He gratefully swallowed the tablets and finished the water, questioning who put them there and why, when he noticed one of the doors in the hallway was slightly open.

As Bellamy made his way towards the sliver of early morning light shining through the partly open door, he set a mental reminder to get some food in his system before he left the apartment.

Once Bellamy pushed the door fully open and stepped into the room, he was struck by the beauty of the space. With his jaw dropping, Bellamy appreciated the warmth of the sun’s rays as they poured through the window on the opposite side of the room and stepped further into the room to inspect it’s contents.

Next to the window, a white desk now splattered with paint and graffitied with intricate doodles held jars of colored pencils and charcoal. Bellamy ran his hand over an old coffee can filled with paint brushes of various shapes and sizes, letting the soft bristles tickle his palm.

Easels covered with manila cloths were dotting the perimeter of the space, engulfing Bellamy in a sea of beige-colored waves. Almost instinctively, he began to lift the corner of one of the cloths when he heard a creak of a floorboard outside of the room. Quickly, Bellamy dropped what little fabric he had scrunched in his hand and turned toward the door, stopping when he noticed the figure standing in the threshold.

A beautiful, blonde girl with fair skin _the one from last night?_ was leaning against the doorframe, crossing her arms. The golden light pouring through the window only maximized her beauty, giving her hair an angelic glow. Her pink lips formed a scowl that did not quite reach her sparkling blue eyes, giving Bellamy some hope that he had not overstepped a boundary.

“Why so quiet? You definitely had a lot to say last night.”

As the girl spoke, Bellamy was surprised at how different her voice was to what he was expecting. Instead of being honeyed and singsong-like, the girl’s voice was husky, intelligent and she spoke with so much authority that it made Bellamy want to continue listening to her.

He finally comprehended the words she had spoken and answered back with his own _fumoso voce._

“That does sound like drunk me. Actually, that sounds a lot like sober me too.”

“I bet it is,” the girl laughed.

And as she laughed, it seemed as the though the light in the room had increased ten-fold. The girl’s laugh, though short somehow filled the room and made Bellamy grin like fool. The last time he had heard a laugh so pure was when Octavia, his sister had found out that Bellamy tried baking and ended up pouring salt instead of sugar into a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Needless to say, he loved the way the girl in front of him laughed which confused him even further.

_Who is this girl? Is she upset that he doesn’t know who she is? What happened last night? Why can’t he remember?_

As if she could read his thoughts, the girl spoke again and seemed to answer at least one of Bellamy’s questions.

“I know you must be confused, and I’m partially to blame for that,” she shrugged. She must have noticed that Bellamy looked even more dumbfounded, so she quickly continued.

“I would really love it if you were not in this room right now so, how about we continue this conversation over breakfast? You must be starving after everything you drank last night,” she finished.

“Uh, sure. That actually sounds great,” Bellamy breathed and followed her out of the room, back down the hallway and into the kitchen. As he took a seat at the breakfast bar, he began to wonder why she did not want him in her art room.

_Why were all the paintings covered? If she did not want him in her room, why was the door open?_

As she cracked a couple eggs into a pan, crisped up some turkey bacon and cut up a few strawberries the girl began to explain some of the events of the previous night.

“So, where to start? I introduced myself last night, but I’m pretty sure you don’t remember anything after 11 o’clock,” she began and when Bellamy nodded she continued.

“The name’s Clarke Griffin, I’m 27 and I work at Ark Medical.”

“Wait, you’re a doctor?” Bellamy interrupted.

“Neurosurgeon, technically.”

“Is that even possible? You said you were 27, right? And you’re already a neurosurgeon?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I guess I’m living proof that miracles do exist.”

“I have officially decided that you will need to fill me in on the rest of your life at a later date.”

“I guess I will,” Clarke said as she placed a plate of two eggs, a couple pieces of bacon and a bowl of cut strawberries in front of Bellamy. She was right, Bellamy was starving and got to work on clearing his plate as Clarke resumed her explanation.

“As for last night, I walked into the apartment laundromat around 11:30, expecting it to be empty, but I’m pretty sure I saw you at of the corner of my eye. I didn’t acknowledge you though. I really did not feel like talking to anyone, but I guess that changed by the end of the night,” she said almost resentfully but continued speaking so quickly that Bellamy figured his hangover was playing tricks on him.

“After I dumped my clothes into one of the machines, I turned to go sit down and suddenly you were right in front of me. I’m talking inches, Bellamy. Inches. So, I jumped back in surprise and fell over one of the open washing machine doors, but you caught me before I could fall.”

“Look at that,” Bellamy started. “Even drunk, I can be a gentleman.”

“Doubtful,” Clarke continued as Bellamy frowned. “After that, all we did the rest of the night was argue and debate about stupid things. Snapchat or Instagram, cartoons or anime, Mac or a PC, you get the gist. After my laundry was done, I realized that I could not let you go home in the state you were in. You were so drunk, Bellamy. I swear you probably would have walked straight into oncoming traffic grumbling to yourself about the Battle of Thermopylae and how annoyed you were that the Persians won.”

“I do that on a daily basis, I have no clue why you think I would do anything other than that,” Bellamy stated sarcastically.

“Either way, I finally got you onto the elevator and eventually into my apartment. I would have prepared a bed for you but you were so hammered I could not even finish a single sentence before you passed out on my couch. And that’s about it.”

As Clarke finished explaining the events of the previous night, Bellamy started putting together the pieces that he could remember. The smell of tequila, an elevator ride and the insanely good-looking blonde standing across from him.

“Honestly, thank you for everything Clarke. I probably would have fallen asleep inside one of the washing machines if you hadn’t dragged me up into your apartment, so thank you. And you should totally market those eggs as a cure for hangovers because they were the bomb.”

Clarke beamed as Bellamy decided to disregard his previous statement and replace it with marketing Clarke’s smile as a hangover cure. Even though Bellamy had a surprisingly enjoyable time with the intriguing girl that saved him the night before, he had to get home if he wanted to make the rest of his day productive.

“I hate to say this, but I need to get to work soon. Could I have the address of the building so that I can find my way home?”

“Of course! It’s 319 Skaikru Drive, you might want to look it up, it’s kind of a secluded off road,” Clarke said nonchalantly.

“Wait, Skaikru Drive?”

Clarke nodded, but looked confused one she glanced at Bellamy.

“That means I live in this building,” Bellamy stated.

“Really? I mean that explains why you were in the laundromat last night. What’s your apartment number?”

“I just moved into 4D two weeks ago.”

“No way! Bellamy, if you’re kidding you better go float yourself because this is 4C. I had no clue anyone moved in there. That apartment’s been vacated for half a year or so.”

“Well, I guess I made a great first impression, didn’t I?” Bellamy said laughingly.

“Oh, definitely. I love meeting my new neighbors in the laundromat, hauling their ass up to my apartment and letting them crash here when their apartment is literally within four steps of mine.”

“I can’t tell if that was sarcastic or if this has actually happened to you before,” Bellamy said finally while getting off of the stool he was sitting on, making his way towards the door.

“I’ll let you decide,” Clarke teased opening the door to let Bellamy out. Suddenly, the air turned a bit colder and more serious. “Don’t be afraid to come over and talk if you need to. I know from experience that people don’t drink that much to remember. They do it to forget.”

Clarke’s blue eyes met Bellamy’s and he realized that they were analyzing him, piercing his resolve. Her eyes were trying to uncover something, just like he had tried to look at the paintings underneath the manila fabric in the room he had found earlier that morning.

Once he nodded, gave her another round of thank you’s and began walking toward his apartment, Bellamy decided he would be seeing more of Clarke. He had made his choice and once Bellamy decides on something, there is _no_ changing his mind. After all, he does know where she lives.

Apartment 4C, _Clarke Griffin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where I really believe I should have ended my story, but I kept going and became uninspired. If you keep reading, you'll end up stuck on a cliffhanger and I would feel and if I didn't warn you. I will continue the story chapter by chapter whenever I feel like it or when I am inspired to write this story again. But don't fret! I am planning to write other stories with different AUs and more canon verse stuff, so look out for that! Thanks for reading!


	3. Glass Shards and Charcoal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln texts Clarke with a preposition and she is NOT happy about it.

_Lincoln Wood_

7:12 pm

Hey, Griff. Just checking up on you post all the stuff that went down last night. You sure you’re okay?

 

_Clarke Griffin_

7:16 pm

Yeah, thanks Linc! I’m good, but some stuff went down after I talked to you last night. 3 words: tequila, laundry, guy. I’ll def have to fill you in later.

 

_Lincoln Wood_

7:17 pm

Uh, YES YOU WILL.

 

_Clarke Griffin_

7:19 pm

Haha, no worries there. But as much as I would like to think you’re just being a good friend, you never check up on me without a good reason.

 

_Lincoln Wood_

7:21 pm

Fine, fine you got me. I’m going out with this beautiful girl named Octavia, but she’s trying to hook her brother up with a date, so I MAY have told her that I know the perfect girl? Maybe?

 

_Clarke Griffin_

7:22 pm

YOU DID NOT JUST SET ME UP ON A DOUBLE DATE WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND AND HER BROTHER

 

_Lincoln Wood_

7:23 pm

I may have… but don’t hate me.

 

_Lincoln Wood_

7:24 pm

The date’s on Friday at 7.

 

_Lincoln Wood_

7:25 pm

Griff??

 

_Lincoln Wood_

7:27 pm

   ...

 

_Lincoln Wood_

7:29 pm

And there goes my social life *sigh*

  


 

_Clarke Griffin_

11:31 pm

I’ll be there.

 

_Lincoln Wood_

11:33 pm

WOOHOO! Love you, Clarke!

 

After her nightly rounds, Clarke finally pried herself away from the brain scans of one of her favorite patients, a girl with silky brown hair and an unhealthy amount of spunk. She filed the scans and stepped away from her desk, taking in the hum of life support machines and vital sign indicators that have become a comfort to the young doctor.

She scanned her desk with her eyes, stopping on a picture of her and her late best friend Wells. Suddenly, Clarke’s breath hitched in her chest and she slowly reached for the photograph. As Clarke, moved her fingers over the profile of her best friend, she noticed she was having trouble breathing. In fact, she didn’t think she was breathing at all. Slowly, Clarke collapsed on the floor of her office, the force of the fall shattering the glass of the picture frame. Clarke tried to calm herself down, but all her efforts were for naught.

 _Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out._ Her hands felt like they were tingling, becoming numb as she layed on the ground.

 _Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in._ Clarke’s heart was racing and she had no idea why. She’s stared at the picture before, willing Wells to magically appear in front of her as if his death was a figment of her cruel imagination. Why was she freaking out now? How is today any different than yesterday?

 _Breathe in, breathe out._ Clarke felt feverish, warm one minute and freezing the next. Goosebumps were running up her legs underneath her light blue scrubs.

 _Breathe in._ And this time she could not breathe out. Clarke knew she was having a panic attack, but the panic took over. She felt like she was in one of those dreams where you try to run but your feet just won’t move fast enough. Clarke tried to look around and found that she was paralyzed with fear. Accepting defeat, Clarke realized there was no one there to pull her back to reality.

***

As her eyes fluttered open, Clarke looked up to see Monty Green, one of the anesthesiologists at Ark Medical and above all, one of her best friends. Slowly sitting up, Monty took it as a good time to fill her in on how he had found her.

Clarke tried to pay attention to the information he was giving her, but became distracted as she noticed the glass from the picture frame had already been swept up and dumped in the garbage. Clarke gingerly took out a piece and wrapped it in a piece of legal pad paper she had lying on her desk. She placed the glass shard and the picture in her bag and made her way out of the room, followed by Monty questioning her about her health which she just brushed off and ignored.

Positively locking her office with a satisfying _click_ , Clarke said goodbye to Monty and thanked him for helping her. Clarke dragged herself to the revolving doors of the hospital and with just barely enough time to step outside, she ran into someone making their way into the hospital.

Staring at the person in front of her, Clarke shook her head in recognition as she processed the sight before her eyes.

“Bellamy?”

“Clarke?”

"If you insist…” Clarke started sarcastically as she moved the two of them out of the doorway and down the sidewalk. Mindlessly, her legs took her down the street, moving north towards her apartment building. However, once Bellamy started to speak, she stopped in her tracks.

“Clarke, where are you going?”

“I’m going home, Bellamy,” she snapped. She had no reason why, but she unleashed her anger at Bellamy all the same. “What’s it to you? Actually, you know what? I don’t even have a home anymore.” _Why was she acting this way?_ “A home is supposed to be filled with love and happiness and j-joy… and I don’t ha-have that anymore.”

All of a sudden the realization of the experience she endured in the hospital caught up to her then and she practically collapsed again. And she would have if Bellamy had not caught her, this particular action seeming more and more like a hobby to the two of them rather than a safety measure.

The more she thought about those she has lost, the more her eyes began to water. Soon, tears blurred her vision of the streetlights that dotted the sidewalk, making her even more upset that she was being so vulnerable in front of Bellamy. But Clarke was tired and all she wanted to do was fall into an endless, black abyss and never come back so she let go of her emotions, sobs racking through her entire body as Bellamy pulled her closer into his chest. She let him embrace her, dropping her head in the crook of his neck. The tears soaking his cotton t-shirt matched the tears trailing down Clarke’s eyes.

“Hey,” he started still comforting Clarke, yet pushing her off of him for a moment. “Look at me, Clarke. Look at me. You’re not alone and whatever happened today, tell me when you’re ready and if you will never be ready that’s okay too.”

Nodding, Clarke wiped the tears that had run down from her eyes onto her cheekbones. Realization struck Bellamy, trying to rack his brain for a memory he didn’t think he had.

“Were you crying like this the night we first met?”

“Uh, yeah. I th-think so,” Clarke answered stuttering in confusion.

“I know I was drunk off my ass, but I feel like I remember your mascara running or something. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I will be, don’t worry about me. And since we’re on the topic, why were you drunk off your ass?”

“Clarke,” he said exasperated. “I know we just met, but I feel closer to you than I have been to a lot of other people in my life. Don’t be afraid to tell me what’s wrong. I’m here for you,” he finished never answering her question.

“I know, Bellamy. And thank you, but this is something that I have to deal with by myself right now,” she paused to take a deep breath. “I hope I’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you one day.”

“I hope you will too,” he said finally locking eyes with the intriguing woman in front of him.

Nodding, Clarke began walking back toward her apartment building. After she took a few steps, she turned back around to face Bellamy expecting him to have been walking back toward the hospital. However, he hadn’t moved. He had been watching Clarke leave this entire time.

“Why were you going to the hospital?” Clarke asked him.

“Visiting a friend,” was the only answer she got as Bellamy turned and made his way back to the hospital, unknowingly being watched by Clarke as he left.

***

Once she reached her apartment, Clarke did not even have the energy to drop her bag by the door. She made her way to the living room and rummaged through her storage to find the Starry Night slippers Wells had given her for National Artists Day 10 years ago. She put them on and relaxed instantly as the memories of their happy days together enveloped her like a warm blanket.

A few minutes later Clarke ended up sitting in her spare bedroom, the one she used for all of her art supplies and found herself picking up a piece of charcoal. And for the first time in 7 months, Clarke began to draw.

Familiar strokes of the charcoal began to flake onto a piece of canvas that was lying on her desk. Clarke continued to smudge the charcoal, making shadows on the low points of the figure she was drawing. She hadn't realized what she was even drawing until she was finished. Clarke signed her initials in the bottom right hand corner of the canvas and returned to the living room, placing her piece of art on the mantle next to the glass shard Clarke took from the picture frame at the hospital last night.

Before heading off to bed, Clarke looked at the piece one last time and stared, _for a portrait of Wells was looking back at her._

***

 _Friday_ . The day Clarke had been dreading since Lincoln texted her. The day she was supposed to go _on a date_. Just the notion of heading to a bar and putting herself out there made Clarke antsy.

After everything that happened with Finn and Lexa, Clarke didn’t trust anyone in a romantic sense. She went on a few dates, but all of them ended up falling short. Frankly, her love life was not a burning problem for her. She has a job that takes up way too much of her time and amazing friends, so she figured she had everything she needed.

Just thinking about the sheer amount of effort needed to pursue a relationship with someone, immediately made her frown. Quickly, Clarke texted Lincoln to make sure she still had to go tonight, not-so-secretly hoping that the double date was miraculously cancelled.

 

_Clarke Griffin_

3:58 pm

Is it socially acceptable to wear scrubs on a date?

 

_Lincoln Wood_

4:01 pm

Wow, it’s not like you to think about being socially acceptable. You okay, Griff?

 

_Clarke Griffin_

4:02 pm

Haha, yeah I’m okay. Just freaking out a bit ‘bout tonight. You of all people know I haven’t been on a date in like 7 months. Do you think you could tell your gf I have some rare disease?

 

_Lincoln Wood_

4:03 pm

ummmm, HOW ABOUT NO

 

_Clarke Griffin_

4:05 pm

I mean, I’m a doctor Linc. They have to believe me, right?

 

_Lincoln Wood_

4:07 pm

Sure, but that doesn’t change the fact that you HAVE to come on this date with me.

 

_Clarke Griffin_

4:08 pm

I’m really not getting out of this one, huh?

 

_Lincoln Wood_

4:09 pm

Not a chance.

 

_Clarke Griffin_

4:11 pm

Fine. I have to finish my shift though so I’ll be an hour late. Don’t let the fun start without me!

 

_Lincoln Wood_

4:12 pm

Wouldn’t think of it.

 

Clarke climbed the staircase up to her apartment, searched through her bag to find her keys and unlocked the door to find the lights already on. The smell of her father’s carbonara sauce delighted her senses as the smell wafted through the apartment. Clarke quickly snapped out of her daydream when she heard a pot _clang_ onto one of her gas burners. She made haste of finding her pepper spray, conveniently located on her keychain and quietly made her way towards her kitchen.

Prepared to strangle the intruder, Clarke faltered when she recognized the figure standing over her stovetop stirring a pan of meat sauce.

“Care to join me for dinner, kiddo?” the man said without looking up at Clarke.

Still stunted from her surprise, Clarke hadn’t realized that a laugh escaped her lips as she ran to envelop the man in a long awaited embrace.

_“Sure, Dad.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I'm sorry for publishing a day late! I'm in my school's production of Mary Poppins and it's been getting pretty hectic with late nights at the theater. I'll try and post on time next week! Thanks again for keeping up with me!


	4. Carbonara Sauce and Jumpsuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the return of Clarke's father, many unfortunate truths are bound to surface.

“You have to let me go eventually, Clarke.”

“This is my apartment therefore I make the rules,” Clarke laughed in response to the man she was prepared to pepper spray just moments prior.

Pulling away from her father and looking up into his tired eyes, Clarke knew she wouldn't be able to let go. Not now, not again.

 

_ 11 Years Earlier _

 

_ The smell of chicken wings frying on the stovetop and the sound of a roaring soccer game flooded Clarke’s senses as she walked into her living room. Huddled around the Griffin’s modest coffee table sat Wells, stuck in between his father and hers arguing about a red card awarded to Real Madrid. Sporting an oversized FC Barcelona scarf, Clarke’s father Jake moved over to make room for her. With her mother in the kitchen alternating her focus between the game, the chicken wings and an email she was replying to, Clarke allowed herself to relax and enjoy the moment of happiness the people around her had created. _

_ Though it was often the two families got together, the dynamic of their friendship has been strained. With Wells’ father Thelonious running for a seat in the Senate, Abby’s focus set on being the Head Surgeon at Houston Medical and Jake’s position as Chief Engineer for NASA often scattered their time and it seemed harder and harder for the three to get together. This never affected Clarke’s relationship with Wells, however. They always made time for each other, going to their parent’s formal banquets while juggling their school schedules filled with AP courses. No matter how busy they were, they managed to be busy together. She guessed that’s what best friends were for. _

_ Though she could go on and on about how much she valued Wells’ friendship, a stark gasp from her mother pulled Clarke out of her thoughts. As if rehearsed, Jake made his way to his wife and quickly asked if everything was alright. Abby motioned toward her computer, but Clarke couldn’t twist her neck enough to see what appeared on the screen. _

_ She turned back around to face the television, trying to immerse herself in the game and erasing any negative thoughts from her mind. She could feel Wells’ eyes on face and for the first time it unnerved her.  _

_ A few seconds later, her mother excused herself and slowly sauntered out of the room. Clarke knew that she should have gone to comfort her mother, but her eyes caught on her father’s frame. He was bent over the island in their kitchen with his head in his hands, staring at the table beneath him. Her choice to console her father marked the moment Clarke and Abby’s relationship began to deteriorate. _

_ As Clarke made her way over to her father and placed a hand on his shoulder, he recoiled from her touch as if he had been burned. But once he looked up, his eyes softened at the sight of his daughter. Suddenly, he closed the distance between them, engulfing her in a warm hug.  _

_ And just as suddenly, the thoughts she tried to erase from her mind just moments before were etched into the inside of her skull, tattooed as her father muttered his next words. _

_ “I’m sick, kiddo.” _

The sizzling of the carbonara sauce on the stove gave Jake an excuse to untangle his arms from around his daughter’s shoulders. Clarke quickly filed away her emotions and peppered her father with questions, “Don’t take this the wrong way Dad but, why are you here? Is Mom okay? Are you okay? Do you need a place to stay? Is there anything—” and was only cut off when a spoonful of red sauce was shoveled into her mouth.

“Your mother is fine and I am as good as I can be. We signed the divorce papers four weeks ago. She’s tired, I’m tired. But, we’re both better off than we were before.”

With a sigh, he sat down on one of the chairs at Clarke’s breakfast bar and ran a hand across his face.

“I have a date for the removal of my aneurysm.”

“Already? I know that Finn can’t disclose information to me about your status, but I thought you still had time!”

“This isn’t the end, Clarke. You of all people know that. Finn knows what he’s doing and he even discussed it with your mother to get a second opinion, I’ll pull through. I have for eleven years.”

“I know, Dad. I know,” Clarke agrees with a hint of longing in her voice. “When is it?”

“March 19th.”

“Poetic justice, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean, Clarke?”

Sitting down next to her father, Clarke grabs one of his hands and continues. “That’s going to be exactly eleven years since you found out.”

Staring out the window behind his daughter’s sink, there is only one thing Jake can think to say.

“Huh.”

Staring out the same window as her father, Clarke mutters her response. “You can say that again.”

So he does.

***

A single vibration from her phone is enough to bring Clarke out of her trance.

_ Lincoln Wood _

8:06 pm

GRIFF WHERE ARE YOU

_ Clarke Griffin _

8:07 pm

SHIT

_ Clarke Griffin _

8:07 pm

I’m so sorry, I got kind of uh… distracted by a visitor. I’ll explain later, give me time to change and make my way over to the bar and I’ll be there as soon as I can. 40 mins TOPS I’ll even buy the next round.

_ Lincoln Wood _

8:09 pm

It’s not like we’re doing shots lol. O’s brother thinks I’m making you up so just get here asap

_ Clarke Griffin _

8:10 pm

10-4 boss, over and out

Quickly apologizing to her father and asking for a rain check on dinner, Clarke speedily takes a shower deciding that her hair looks presentable enough. With the help of the humidity in the bathroom, she curls her already wavy blonde locks and braids the top of her head to keep her hair out of her face. She throws on an emerald green jumpsuit and hastily applies some powder and a bit of eyeshadow along with her favorite mascara.

Grabbing a pair of comfortable white heels, Clarke checks herself out in her mirror and decides she did pretty good for only having 20 minutes. As she grabs her phone and her keys, her father throws her a white blazer and uncharacteristically shoves her out the door, shouting a quick “good luck” and “I love you” before closing the door behind her.

Climbing into her car, Clarke pops a mixtape Wells made for her 9 years ago into her CD player and begins singing along to a Peter Gabriel song she has memorized. Some time through the drive, Clarke comes to the realization that she’s excited to meet Octavia’s brother. More content than she has felt before a date in a while, Clarke continues to sing along with the songs blaring through her speakers. However, she doesn’t relax until she makes it to  _ The Dropship _ with 12 minutes to spare.

***

Bellamy Blake doesn’t really go on dates. Sure he’s had his fair share of casual hookups, including an on and off thing with Echo Snowe and his only relationship to date was with Gina Martin and even that lasted for a mere three months.

They’re still friends now, but Bellamy needed someone who would challenge him. Physically and mentally, and that was something his relationship with Gina lacked. Neither of them were at fault in their relationship but looking back on the three months they shared together, Bellamy was a pretty bad boyfriend. He wouldn’t neglect Gina or treat her poorly, he just kind of sucked at relationships in general, and he’s pretty sure he still does.

Maybe he just needs the right person to come along.

Therefore, Bellamy is frankly surprised when Octavia texts him and tells him that she set him up with someone. But, it can’t be that hard, right? He knows he has a type. Brown hair, darkish skin, lean figure. He has a pattern and he’s sure Octavia knows. 

So he’s even more surprised when Octavia keeps assuring him that the girl she set him up with is nothing like what he’s used to. And he’s a little embarrassed that he’s scared of what is about to walk through the door of  _ The Dropship _ .

He gets even more nervous when ‘his date’ doesn’t show up for an hour. He asks Octavia if she’s just playing a huge prank on him and asks if ‘this girl’ even exists. By way of explanation she turns her head to Lincoln who makes a big show of texting the girl and arguing that she has a really hectic work schedule. 

After almost another hour, Bellamy decides that enough is enough and gets ready to leave up until he notices his neighbor, Clarke Griffin walk through the door with her head held high. 

Her outfit is green and it somehow compliments her golden hair that has been braided to look like a crown.  _ Fitting for a princess _ , he laughs to himself. Almost immediately their eyes meet and she smiles at him, leaving him wondering if anyone else saw the sparkle in her eye. He responds with a smirk of his own. 

She turns and continues to look around the bar, Bellamy oddly cold now that the warmth of her smile has stopped heating him up. He swings his legs out from under the table to walk up to her, but stops when he notices Lincoln moving toward Clarke himself. 

She obviously doesn’t hear him approach and a small  _ yelp _ escapes her mouth when she feels his arms grab her shoulders and turn her around to pull her into a hug. Once she recognizes the man providing the embrace, she returns it full force and suddenly Bellamy is the one that needs to turn around to settle the jealously climbing up his throat. He glances at Octavia and she give him a knowing glance, a grin playing at the corner of her mouth. 

     He has never seen Lincoln so playful, always regarding him as the big, friendly giant that loves his sister. The easy way he laughs with Clarke is a stark contrast to the subdued man he has grown accustomed to when thinking of Lincoln.

As Lincoln and Clarke make their way from the door to the table, Bellamy sees a look of confusion flash across Clarke’s face and he begins to wonder what she’s doing at the bar, being led to  _ his _ table by  _ his _ sister's boyfriend. And when Octavia introduces Clarke as Lincoln’s best friend, everything  _ clicks _ . Clarke Griffin is  _ his date _ . And he couldn’t be more excited.

***

Clarke was genuinely surprised when she realized Bellamy was her date for the night, but her surprise did not cloud her excitement. In hindsight, she should have noticed the resemblance between Octavia and her neighbor but she never thought to put their two stories together.

Not even five minutes after she had gotten her drink, the worst sound she could hear in that moment reached her ears. Her pager started going off. 

Normally, she would just advise the doctors on what they should do and she could enjoy the rest of her night with her neighbor, his sister and his sister’s boyfriend. However all of her positive thoughts flew out the window when she read the patient number on the screen of her pager.

She must have gasped without realizing because everyone at the table turned to look at her, worry and confusion painted on their faces like a series of canvases on display. 

Lincoln was the first to break the ice.

“Isn’t that your pager? You just tell the doctors what to do, right?”

Disregarding Lincoln’s comment Clarke spoke to herself. “She was fine. I checked on her last night and the day before that and she was fine. Patient 2122, she was fine.”

Clarke looked up to an unreadable expression strewn onto Bellamy’s face, as if he was trying to recall a piece of information. However, she didn’t get to decipher his thoughts as another  _ ping _ from her pager vibrated in her hand. This time she read the information out loud.

“Patient 2122, TIA,” Clarke’s voice disappeared as she finished reading the memo and her face dropped.

“Lincoln, it’s a transient ischemic attack. I have to go, she needs emergency surgery. I don't understand, she was fine.”

“It’s okay, Clarke. Go ahead, we know it’s important…” started Octavia, but was cut off as her brother interrupted her.

“What’s the name of Patient 2122?” Bellamy asked with a dejected voice.

“Bellamy, I can’t disclose that information…” Clarke started but never finished.

“What’s her name, Clarke?” he asks more insistent and something in his voice tells Clarke that he already knows who the patient is. She knows because that’s how she felt when her father was diagnosed. So against her better judgement, she answers Bellamy’s question.

_ “Patient 2122, Raven Reyes.” _

Though  _ The Dropship _ was buzzing with energy, individual conversations from the people around her filling up the space, the only thing Clarke hears is Bellamy’s glass shatter as it hits the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *guess who's back, back, back, back again, again, again* WOOHOO IT'S ME!!! From now on, I'll be publishing new chapters every Monday! Thanks for reading and I'll talk with you all next week!


	5. Doors and Glove Compartments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke react to the news of Raven's diagnosis.

“Oh my god, Bell,” escapes Octavia’s mouth when she notices the shattered glass on the floor of  _ The Dropship. _

Clarke recovers from the shock wave that is Bellamy’s surprise and asks the only coherent Blake sibling a question.

“How do you guys know Raven?” and as the query leaves Clarke’s mouth she recalls a memory that she seemingly brushed aside.

 

_ After Clarke took a few steps, she turned back around to face Bellamy. Expecting him to have been walking back toward the hospital, Clarke didn't think anything of it. However, he hadn’t moved. Bellamy had been watching her leave this entire time. _

_ “Why were you going to the hospital?” Clarke asked him. _

_ “Visiting a friend,” was the only answer she got as Bellamy turned and made his way back to the hospital. Clarke's gaze unknowingly following his disappearing figure. _

 

Shaking her head, Clarke answered her own question.

“Regardless, I’m sure it’s a long story that none of us has time for right now.” Shouldering her bag, Clarke hugs both Lincoln and Octavia and makes her way to the door. 

With a few fingers on the handle, Clarke hears someone run up behind her. She smiles when a mop of soft, brown curls and cheeks danced with freckles appear on the reflective, glassy surface of the door.

Bellamy’s coffee-colored eyes scream “I’m coming with you” and “I need to help her” but Clarke does not have the heart to tell him that there was not much he could do. So, she pushes open the door and steps out into the frigid, night air.

Once they reach the parked car, Bellamy makes his way to the passenger seat, as does Clarke. She opens the door and Bellamy takes a seat as she reaches the glove compartment to pull out a pair of blue scrubs.

“Get up off that lazy posterior of yours once in awhile, Blake.”

Looking thoroughly confused, Bellamy shakes out of his reverie and looks up at Clarke.

“You’re not driving?”

“Nope,” Clarke answers matter-of-factly. “And neither are you. With this Manhattan traffic it’ll be way quicker if we walk up to the hospital on our own.”

Grumbling something about gloves going in the glove compartment, Bellamy gets out of the car and starts walking uptown.

***

Walking with Clarke to the hospital was, nice. They didn’t talk much but, the silence surrounding them was companionable. And Bellamy thought it was, well, nice. He would have really liked to go on an actual  _ date _ with her, but he figured his time would come. After all, he had to focus on Raven for the time being. She was the one in the hospital after all, even though Clarke is in the hospital 24/7, seven days a week.

No, stop. Focus on Raven, not the beautiful, blonde babe turning onto the hospital walkway.  _ A princess always returns to her kingdom. _

Geez, Blake! Stop fantasizing and get your history books in check. 

He follows Clarke to the waiting room and almost crashes into her when she stops outside of the  _ Medical Personnel Only  _ door.

“You’re going to have to wait out here, Bellamy.”

“No way! I need to see if Raven is okay!”

“I’m sure you do, but right now-”

“No, right now I need to go and see my sick friend. Don’t you get that? I’m her friend and friends stick by each other through thick and thin, no matter how hard it gets,” Bellamy snaps.

“I’m not sure where you get off accusing me of not being there for my friends but in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t even know if Raven is okay. Her  _ doctor  _ doesn’t know if she is okay, so you need to wait here,” Clarke retorts with a sigh.

Putting a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, Clarke finishes her thought. “I’ll do  _ my _ very best to make sure  _ Raven _ is at her very best as soon as possible.”

With that, she walks through the door. Off to save the day in a green jumpsuit, blue scrubs in one hand and car keys in the other. Missing the heat from where Clarke touched his shoulder, Bellamy sits down in the waiting area. Tired and in need of a bottle of tequila. 

***

Clarke walks into Patient 2122’s room with hands washed and scrubs on. Grabbing the file she knows she will not need, Clarke looks over at Raven Reyes. All the Latina, five feet five inches, type O blood, brown hair and lean figure that makes up Raven Reyes.

Slowly, Raven turns her head and smiles when she sees Clarke. 

“Something happened, Doc.”

“Raven, you had a seizure,” Clarke huffs but answers softly. “We did another brain scan.”

“Wait, a seizure?”

“When they paged me, they told me it was a transient ischemic attack but I think it might be something else entirely. And not something for the better.”

Raven’s eyes traced the outline of Clarke’s body, trying to find any evidence of lightheartedness or a joke. But she knew that whatever was going on with her brain, it was serious. Clarke continued.

“Raven, your scans showed evidence of a stroke, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. You are using an incredible amount of your brain and that seems to be aggravating the affected area. The stroke appears to be hemorrhagic. And I’m afraid that if you keep using your brain like you were before the seizure, it will only make things worse.”

Raven implored trying to make light of her dire situation.

“With my leg and my previous brain damage, I’ve been through worse Doc.”

“Not worse than this.”

Clarke pauses to collect her thoughts, approaching this as Doctor Griffin. Not as Clarke, Raven’s friend.

“Raven, it could kill you.”

But nothing could prepare Clarke for Raven’s response.

_ “Could? Or will?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm ending the story here for now. I know that this is sort of a cliffhanger but I'm not very inspired to write this story anymore... but I will leave this story on my back burner, so if I feel like I want to write this story again I will. I'm sorry for those of you that wanted to see this story more completed, but I hope that you understand where I'm coming from. Thanks for reading and be sure to look out for my other works coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to keep this short, sweet and simple because I know that I never read these. So this is my first official work on AO3 and I could not be more excited! I'm fairly happy with how this is coming out and I have a feeling my writing will only get better and better as I continue! Thanks again for reading and supporting this story! You can also follow a few accounts that I run on Instagram, they are aesthetics for a couple characters: @griffinsclarke @blakesdontbreak @mntygrn @othewarrior


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